


Hetalia drabble collection 4 - The M-rated ones

by drcalvin



Series: Drabbles and ficlets [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bondage, Car Sex, Cold War, Comedy, Dancing, Drabble Collection, Multi, Strip Tease, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-24
Updated: 2010-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drcalvin/pseuds/drcalvin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles originally posted on the Hetalia anon meme. Various pairings, various themes. These contain some sexual scenes, but not outright porn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ferris Wheel - Prussia/Liechtenstein

"YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOOT US DOWN, YOU LUNATIC!" Prussia screamed at the gondola beneath theirs. There had been some highly suspicious sounds from it ever since the beginning of the journey, and now that the wheel seemed stuck, there was no knowing what the madman with the gun would try. That reminded him...  
"AND YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOOT WEST EITHER, YOU HEAR ME!"

"Don't worry, Mr Prussia," Liechtenstein said. She sat on the bench opposite of him and smiled adorably, not at all phased by the fact that they were stuck God knew how many metres above the ground. "Brother wouldn't do anything like that!"

"No, he'll just shoot me when we get to the ground... Man, I knew this was a stupid idea."

"Oh, but Mr Germany so wanted to ride the wheel and they did warn that you two were too heavy together."

"Next time, I'll just stay on the ground. What if we're stuck here for hours? What if Switzerland kills me for deflowering you!"  
He remembered then that the nation he was talking to was, in a way, a young girl and apologised hastily. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to mind his slip.

"Now why would he do that..." Liechtenstein smiled. "After all, Mr Prussia, brother trusts me."

"Not me!"

"No." Liechtenstein's smile suddenly seemed a bit less innocent. "But they can't even see into our gondola and..." She began to unbutton her dress, "I've always wondered if what Hungary says of you is true?"

Prussia opened his mouth. Closed it. Was about to protest that he was certainly not the nation to take the virginity of _Switzerland's little sister_ when he saw a pair of tiny, but deliciously tempting for that, breasts.

"You, er, really don't think he can see?" he asked.

Liechtenstein stepped out of her skirts and held up a finger, listening. There were no sounds, especially not of an older brother exploding in rage and trying to climb up the Ferris wheel to protect her virginity.  
"No," she said after a while, "I don't think he does."

"Hehehe..." Prussia began to remove his shirt, exclaiming happily when a pair of small, eager hands reached to help him with the fly. "So tell me, babe, what exactly has Hungary told you bout my awesomeness?"


	2. Vroom - US/UK

"Ohh, England, more, more!"

"This is disgusting," England muttered and tried to scoot backwards without leaving half his skin stuck on the tacky fake-leather seats.

"England!"

"Alright, you tosser," he grumbled before going back to blowing America.

"Ohh, yeah," the younger nation moaned, shamelessly spreading his legs and rocking his hips. England just hoped that nobody would look too closely at them and wonder why the hell an empty car standing on the side of the highway was moving so bloody much. Not that they'd seen anyone except the occasional bird for quite some time...

Well. If America was going to have so much fun, he should try to enjoy himself too, he decided and began jerking himself off. At least this ridiculous car was _huge_, but did it really have to be that particular nauseating shade of bubblegum-blue?

"England," America moaned, "please, take me... It's so hot, I ne-"

"Of course it's bloody hot, you idiot! We're in the middle of Arizona and your old heap of junk doesn't have air-conditioning!"

America stopped moaning and rose up on his elbows to glare at England. He did, one had to admit, look quite fine in that nude-and-sweaty way.  
"At least it's not a damn _Mini_," he snarled.

England gaped. "You dare insult the Mini?"

"Fuck yeah. Most uncomfortable car to fuck in this side of the Volkswagen."

"...what?"

America's brain seemed to catch up with what he'd said and he blushed slightly.

"What! You've buggered somebody _in a Beetle_?"

"Euuhm..."

"You sodding traitor!"

"No, wait, England! England!" America tried to grab the angry nation, but he marched off into the baking desert sun before he could catch him. "England! Come back, you're gonna get a sunburn!"

England didn't even bother to turn around when giving him the two-fingered salute.

"Besides, I was thinking of you the whole time!"


	3. The two awesomes - Prussia/US

"You know, when they got here, they were still mostly mine," Gilbert said. He smiled and nodded at a mother with a toddler and winked at a pair of giggling school-kids, who ran off blushing when they realized he had seen their stares. "Ist geil, huh, how you got injected with some of my awesome. Need it to counteract the Limey, I bet."

Alfred winced. "Ahaha, we don't really say that anymore. In fact, I'm trying to become a little more PC overall; politically correct, you know?"

"Whatever for?"

"Makes the new boss really happy. And I gotta say..."

"Oh, Wurst! Let's have us one!"

Excited as a gleeful child, Gilbert hurried over to the hot dog stand and ordered 'one of every kind! And he's paying!', while Alfred followed at a more subdued pace. It was unusual, he reflected, to be outdone at anything... But there were certainly areas were old Gilbert still stumped him - such as his amazing lack of tact.

Still, the locals loved him, from his charmingly broken English to his outlandish looks and even more outlandish behaviour. America was a frequent visitor of parties great and small. But to have Prussia himself himself as a guest of honour during their little heritage festiva? It was more than anyone in this little Wisconian town had expected.

"Here," Gilbert said and offered him a hot dog. He kept the other four for himself, taking a big bite from one and chewing thoughtfully. "Bit bland. But free food has its own charm."

"When Germany's secretary said he would consider making an appearance if I paid for room and board, I had no idea it would become this expensive," Alfred said, trying to sound rueful but not quite able to hide his laughter.

"Pfft." Gilbert shrugged and handed out one of the sausages to another child who stood awe-struck by his impressively plumed hat.   
"Here you go, kleiner. Eat up, grow into a proud German!"

"Hey... They're still American," Alfred felt pressed to comment.

"I know that!" Gilbert shook his head and squinted at the child. "This one... Hasn't been to Preußen for, hmm, four generations? No, his granddaddy went over for a spot during the war, now didn't he?"

Alfred blinked, looked from Gilbert to the boy and back again. "You have got to be joking. How could you see that?"

"Trade secret." With a very important look on his face, he tapped his nose. "You must have at least _this_ level of awesome, before I can reveal it for you."

"No, seriously, how did you do it?" Alfred asked, smiling and waving distractedly at some vaguely familiar faces. The problem with knowing everyone was that after a while, everyone knew you, and they tended to want to chat an awful lot. Which was nice, except right now he had a slippery Prussian to squeeze for information. Lucky for him, he knew the best way to loosen German tongues.  
"Come on, I'll buy you a drink if you tell me!"

"A drink? Of that scheissdreck you call beer?" Gilbert shuddered. "Forget it."

"There's a whole stall of micro-breweries over there," Alfred said and pointed towards the area of the festival he had (very deliberately) left for last. "There's a reason they are proud of their German he_urk_!"

With a loud cry of 'biiiiieeeer!', Gilbert grabbed his collar and rushed towards the beer tents. Though Alfred felt half-choked by the time they got there, it appeared as if the crowd gathering around them thought it was all part of some show. Considering that Alfred had, to match Gilbert's looks, put on his old uniform it was perhaps not so strange. When someone stage-whispered that he thought they were re-enacting how General von Steuben trained the American troops, Alfred sighed and decided to just play along.

"Hey, Ami, let's have a contest! See if you have got enough Preuße in you, to handle your beer like a man, huh?"

England liked to go out drinking with Prussia. In Alfred's mind, this didn't speak very favourably of his behaviour after a few... and this was a family festival. But when the audience began to clap and cheer them on and Gilbert's grin took on a tinge of mockery, Alfred found himself unable to back down from the challenge.

"I'll have you know, I can hold my drink with the best of them - Kraut," he added teasingly, rewarded with a loud laughter from Gilbert.

"Na, schau mal! One of your best, to start us off with," he ordered the vendor, "and keep them coming, zack-zack!"

Gilbert grinned at their audience, raising his own beer high. "Come on, don't be shy everyone, join in, join in, or take a bet... The odds are double on the yank; he'll pay the difference if somebody doesn't own up."

"Er, Gilbert..."

"PROST!"

"Oh, Ludwig is so going to pay for this... Prost!"

They drained their steins and Gilbert reached for the next while he was still wiping foam off his lip. To another great cheer, they raised their mugs and threw them back again.

When Gilbert jumped up on the counter and began a drinking song, Alfred sincerely hoped that his German, albeit rusty, was the best in the crowd. Otherwise someone was sure to sue for sexual harassment and/or indecent verbal exposure before the evening was finished.

Then they pressed another mug in his hand while Gilbert laughed like a loon. A mirage of an earlier time, who had escaped the history books with such vigour that Alfred found himself laughing along. Before he knew it, he had emptied the stein in his hand.

He really, really hoped the boss was too busy with this little economic crisis to read the newspaper tomorrow...

Much, much later, when Alfred rolled out of bed and staggered towards a much-needed piss, he had the vague impression that his bed had shrunk. Of course, the floor was also dancing beneath his feet and he seemed to have somewhere between three and five bathroom doors, so perhaps it was just him.

Then the lump in his bed moved and reached for him with rough fingers. A beer-fuelled voice whispered something so lewd it was probably illegal to even think of in Texas, Alfred realized that, alas, he had not imagined the last part of the evening. It wasn't even the part where Gilbert, after having poked Alfred a few times, declared himself victor and promised that the loser would take care of all bills...

No, it was when they had staggered into his hotel room and the Secret Service men had been shunted outside, when Gilbert had looked at him with a new hunger in his eerie eyes. And, muttering something about helping him save on boarding costs, he had undressed them both with surprising dexterity considering how drunk he was, before dragging Alfred to bed.

"So, kleiner," Gilbert whispered and let his hand slip down the great plains until they reached the most top-secret areas of America, "you think you're sober enough to get it up yet?"

"Pr- Prussia," he moaned, "I'm not really sure..."

"Oh, come _on_," the old nation said, "you haven't forgotten my special training already, have you?"

"Ah, well." Alfred gulped and squirmed a little, feeling Gilbert's hand grow firmer on him in reply. "Mmm..." He shivered, head falling back and giving Gilbert a perfect opening to attack his undefended throat with teasing nips and sloppy kisses.

"Maybe you need a refresher course, na?"

"Yeah," Alfred said and spread his legs, "maybe I do."


	4. Marching to my tune - Austria/Prussia

Austria didn't know how many times he had decided that enough was enough, that he would accept no more insults or embarrassments from Prussia. Countless times over the years... Finally, however, the other had pushed him too far, committed an offence too grievous to ignore and Austria decided to retaliate.

Much to his shock, he soon realised that he couldn't truly retaliate as a country. Because where on the map was Prussia? He had no quarrels with Germany and, as such, he could hardly attack his north-eastern part, even if it was held by an offensive ruffian.

It had taken a few days of contemplation before Austria realized that this conundrum could not only be solved, but solved in a way that would be infinitely more pleasurable than merely crushing the cur in battle.

As usual, his musings were interrupted by Prussia, when the other rattled his chains most unbecomingly and tried to say something. The little ball-gag he had borrowed from Hungary, who was always happy to aid him, the dear heart, stopped him most efficiently.

"Ah, ah, ah..." Austria tapped Prussia on the nose with his baton. "If you were to remain still, Prussia, it would please me a great deal. We do not want scratches on the grand piano, now do we?"

The growl informed him that Prussia was probably less than concerned about the piano right now.  
Austria let his baton wander down, flicking aside the opened shirt and revealing a map of pale scars. "You have kept in shape," he murmured, "most excellent."

Prussia tried to kick, which earned him a swift flick over the cheek. The red mark looked so nice, Austria decided to create a matching one on the other side.

"Now, Prussia. I think we are ready to begin your lessons." He sat down at the piano, noting how inspiring an ornament Prussia made. A bit rough around the edges so far, but he'd polish him up in time...

"This," he said as he began to play, "is Bach. Johann Sebastian Bach, and not Bash, Blasch, Bahh or any of the other charmingly 'creative' names you have given him over the years."

Austria stopped playing for a moment, rising up to stare at the bound Prussian. "And you will learn _every single one_ of his compositions before these chains come off, do you understand?"   
He smiled wider, pleased to see how Prussia swallowed and paled. "And until you do..." he took the baton, twirling it carefully, "I shall be more than happy to instruct you."


	5. How we dance - Austria/Prussia

"_That_ is never dancing," Austria sniffed. On the television, a gang of young sloppily dressed hoodlums jumped around, spinning on the floor sometimes. They even yelled at each other!

"You're always so old-fashioned," Prussia said. "And a snob."

He was lying upside down on the sofa, having finally gotten tired of Austria's meaningful glances whenever he forgot himself and put his feet up on the table. So he put them against the wall instead. This had the bonus effect of making it impossible for him to properly see Austria's frosty glares - although he could still feel them, dammit, and he was receiving a very cold one right now.

"I fail to see how being able to appreciate the finer things in life-" Austria began, but since Prussia had heard variations of this lecture for something like three hundred years now, he was getting a bit tired of it.

"Not listening," he said in a sing-song voice, grinning when the other man gave a weary sigh.

Austria turned off the television, no longer able to stand watching what the 'dancers' were doing. Deplorable, how low standards had sunk lately.

"I was watching that!" Prussia protested. "Besides, they said your beloved waltz was corrupting the youth when it started. I remember!"

"That was merely a few hard-headed old stodges," the aristocrat quickly countered.

"Pff, yeah, right... You just liked it because it brought you closer to all that nubile young flesh than old folk dances." Prussia closed his eyes, his obnoxious grin widening slightly.   
"Mmm, holding onto Hungary's waist for a whole dance... Admit it, that's why you supported the style in the first place!"

"I most certainly did not." Austria went over to his record player, feeling that he needed to cleanse his mind with some appropriate music. "Dancing is about the soul; music taken shape, making the spirit soar."

"So what," Prussia twisted his head a bit. "Are you claiming that it doesn't matter who you dance with for you to be happy?"

"Of course I prefer to waltz with someone I am fond of. However," Austria admitted it easily enough, "as long as it is a skilled partner, I can enjoy only the pure art of dancing."

"You're on!"

"Excuse me?"

"I said," Prussia slid off the sofa and came up to him, doing his best to loom threateningly, "you're on. Let's dance."

"You want to waltz? With me?"

"Sure." The German man shrugged. "Lemme show you what those old prunes were so upset about, back then..."

A disbelieving laughter escaped Austria. "Truly?"   
When he saw that Prussia was not backing down, he smiled smugly. "Very well." He started the music. "Now then, let _me_ show you what dancing is all about..."

Hands grasped, eyes met in challenge and they were off, dancing.

Only a few whirls in, Prussia slid closer, his hand on Austria's back dipping dangerously low. Austria raised an eyebrow but refused to back down. Instead, he countered with some more advance steps, leading a suddenly flustered Prussia through a complicated pattern of twirls and dips.

"Bastard," Prussia muttered. But his pale cheeks were stained with colour and his voice trembled with mirth.

"Imbecile," Austria retorted, in reply to which Prussia pulled him tight against his own body.

"I can't stand your snobby attitude," he growled, "and your petty little rules."

They danced faster now, leaving the music behind as they twirled almost nose to nose, hands squeezing hard enough to whiten their knuckles.

"I despise your rudeness, your loudness..." Austria whispered in his ear. "Your mere presence makes me ill," he continued while his hand slid up to rest against the muscular neck, feeling the few beads of sweat gathered in that annoyingly messy hair.

"Fine!" Prussia spat, grinding against his partner almost as roughly as the plebeians on the television earlier. "I fucking hate you too."

"As long as we're clear on that."

When they broke the kiss, they were still twirling around each other, though the song had long since ended.


	6. That's why they call it tease - Norway+Denmark

"Really? You're really gonna do it?" Denmark's grin was so wide, it looked as if it may split his head in half.

Norway shuddered inside, but nodded. He was a nation of his word, after all. Denmark had won the hockey game against Sweden, so...

"Yessss!" Denmark punched the air and did a mad little jig where he was standing.

"But," Norway hastened to add, "you are not allowed to touch. Don't even think about it. Or I will take severe measures, understood?"

"Course, babe." The taller nation practically licked his lips in anticipation. This would be just like old days, except Norway was much cuter than Sweden had ever been! Nor was he a damn brat any longer, having finally grown into a _fine_ young man. Such a shame that this had involved him leaving the house and thus Denmark's control, but now... now he would finally see Norway reveal it all.

[Later that evening]

"You touched!"

"I swatted a fly!" Denmark protested. "Come on," he shrugged and pulled his most innocent I'm-such-a-loveable-dork-aren't-I?-grin, the one that worked on everyone... except Norway. "You haven't even gotten any clothes off yet."

"That," Norway frostily informed him, "does not matter. Now." He snapped a finger and a cold wind suddenly howled outside, blowing open the window.

Denmark's smile turned a bit stiff. It wasn't really that he believed in pagan monsters anymore. Except it was a bit hard not to, when your old housemate-cum-unreachable love interest had a pet troll or two...

"Turn him towards the wall," Norway ordered, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Wha-? No! Hey, NORWAY! Come on, maaaan!"

Completely ignoring the protesting Dane, Norway began to remove his clothes one by one.


	7. The Warsaw pact - Prussia/Poland

Poland is silly and ditzy and a lot more annoying than East remembers him ever being during the middle ages. Right now he's also being annoyingly smug about the name of this new sham military alliance they're all entering.

"It's still Russia's, you ass," East mutters and kicks one of Poland's stuffed animals out of the way.

"So? Russia's, like, everywhere. Like air." Poland puts on a smidge more of his new black-market bought lipstick and blows his mirror image a kiss.

"I think you mean like pollution," East says and sniffs the air meaningfully. "Really, you have let yourself go badly."

Poland's giggle is shrill and annoying. "I'm totes the only cool thing about this pact!" He stops to pick up the abused plush animal and plops down on the bed besides East.   
"It's, like, Russia's made up a secret club because he's totally not down with America having a secret club of his own," he explains eagerly, as if East is too stupid to realize that himself. "And I'm, you know, like, the club mascot because I'm all cute and awesome!" Poland nods in apparent satisfaction. "Yep, it's totally the Poland rule in, like, it's ultimate action!"

"The what?"

"You know, Poland rule? Oh my God, are you like _totally_ square! It's like, everything with Warsaw becomes, like, a hundred zillion times more coolers!"

East beats his head against the soft mattress and moans. "Why do I even bother to come here?"

"'cuz we're both totes too awesome to, like, languish in solitude!" Poland does a fair impression of that Norwegian painting and East can't help a snort of laughter. "And Warsaw is like completely the most awesome place ever and you're like, way too fond of saying awesome, East, so I'm like picking it up and hmmff!"

Poland isn't a girl, even if he wears a skirt sometimes. When East rolls on top of the other nation and kisses him, his hands wander beneath the skirt and find immediate proof that Poland is a at best a fake girl. But, honestly, East doesn't really care.

"Ouch!" He jerks his head back and glares down at the pouting blond beneath him, feeling his tongue burn where Poland bit him.   
"Now what?" he complains, "We've eaten, we've talked and I even gave you some bloody weeds so why can't we finally fuck?"

"Are you, like, an idiot?" Poland says and pinches his ass. "You're here, in _Warsaw_ to sign the _Warsaw_ pact so, I'm like totally topping tonight."

East just stares at him for a moment, then he lets all pretensions fall and just smirks at Poland. "Ohh, we'll just see about that!" He bends closer until their noses are almost touching and grasps Poland's thin shoulders hard. "Don't forget how most of your land today used to be Prussian!"

Poland's giggle is just as high-pitched as before, but now his smile seems sharper and when he pulls East down, he bites his lip until the pain blossoms and East can taste blood between them.  
"And you'd better, like, remember," Poland whispers, "whose land it is now!"


	8. McD - US/UK

"I'm not letting you bugger me in a McDonald's and that's final," England hissed, quickly darting glances around to make sure nobody heard him.

"Please? For my birth- er, I mean, for Christmas? Or Labour day? Please? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseple-"

"NO!" England yelled and smashed his hand down on the table so hard that America's fourth soda fell over and soaked his trousers with coke.

"Come on, please," America begged. He leaned closer, deliberately putting a knee beneath the stream of soda. "We could go to the bathroom right now, everyone saw you spill so it's not strange if we go together..."

"Never," England hissed and crouched lower, hating how everyone was staring at them and trying to pretend they weren't looking at all.

America sighed and debated how much his fantasy was worth to him. A great, GREAT deal, he decided when he saw how uncomfortably England sat in the bright plastic environment of the restaurant.

"Alright," he said, lowering his voice too, "how bout this? A blowjob-"

"Are you completely stupid or just deaf?"

"-and in exchange, I'll dress up as the Doctor and let you have me on the BBC set."

England was about to continue his protests when the words caught his mind. He frowned and paused a little. "You mean it...? Against the TARDIS?"

"Yes. I'll even wear that damn scarf," America muttered. Really, as if his completely harmless and healthy little fantasy was anything compared to England's kinks.

"Oh. Hm." England glanced around, sighed, and produced a small pocket flash which he took a quick sip from.   
"I need something to calm my nerves," he protested when America frowned. "Alright? And don't even think of asking for anything more than a blowjob!" He pushed away his tray and stalked off towards the bathrooms.

America smiled and played with the lube in his pocket. He wasn't exactly planning on asking, but England didn't need to know that - yet.


	9. Never drink and upload - Estonia, Poland

"Liet! Ahmigawd, Liet!"

"He's not home," Estonia called, hurrying to shut minimize all windows and tuck himself back into his trousers. Damn - and just when he'd found a really hot clip to wank to!

Poland, of course, barged into his room without even knocking and he could only hope the other nation was too upset to notice his flushed state and slightly awkward posture. At least the desk should hide his erection, he hoped.

"Estonia? D'you like have any friggin idea where Liet is hiding?" Poland said, appearing even more frantic and exhausting than usual.

"Went visiting America," Estonia said, feeling his blush intensify. God, but there was something about Poland today... Fuck, he realized, he moved almost exactly like the hot blond Estonia had just been jacking off to. And he even recalled him wearing a similar mini-skirt once. Aaaargh, bad thoughts out of my brain! he told himself, out, out!

"Gawd, I'm like totally gonna have to follow him," Poland said, biting his nail in exasperation. "And he so totally promised he'd like burn that video!"

"What video?" Estonia asked, trying to feign nonchalance and ignore how interesting Poland's pert little ass suddenly seemed beneath his tight red pants.

Much to his surprise, the other nation blushed and shook his head, refusing to answer.

"What? Why can you tell Lithuania and not me?" he asked, ignoring that the other two had been friends for hundreds of years while he only rarely gave Poland much personal attention.

"Cuz it's like soooo embarrassing I'd die if anyone found out! And, oh gawd, what if Russia finds it!" Now, Poland seemed genuinely frightened. "Liet will like totally have to hide in a hole for a whole friggin' age until Russia'll forget that!" He began pacing around, biting his usually well-manicured nails again. "And he's like totally all over the 'net these days, gawd, I'm like no idea what to do."

"If there's a problem with the internet and Russia, I'd be happy to help you," Estonia cautiously offered him.

"Really? AhmiGAWD!" Poland squealed and practically threw himself at Estonia in joy. "Thank, that'd be like the nicest thing evah!"

"Um," Estonia flushed and tried to pry the happy nation away without poking him with any vital parts. "So, like," damn, now his speech-patterns were growing infectious too! "What do you need help with?"

"Well, it's like this - and this is totally, and I mean like absolutely totally on pain of eternal horrible and Russian-like torment, yeah? Totally secret!"

Estonia nodded and Poland continued, finally settling down. Still in his lap, but at least he'd stopped that infernal squirming.

"Well, it's like, me and Liet we were kinda a bit drunk, you know like you get when you're like sampling the years batch of wódka... and then like one thing led to another and before we knew it, we're like TOTALLY smashed and Liet's suggesting we tape things and since I had this really awesomepretty skirt I said, sure, let's go for it, cuz it was so pretty. Buuuut," he drew a deep breath to steady himself before continuing, "then the next morning Liet totally freaked out and he promised to delete it and like, overwrite it and stuff, and I'm all, sure whatevah, and now when I got online I like, ohmigawd! Cuz I totally found the video! Of, like, us totally having wild hot monkey sex - except monkey's are totally not as hot as me in my skirt, like no way - and just, gawd. Even if you can't see our faces, and that's like, whoa I'm sooooo grateful or I'd just freak! Out! But, anyway, anyway - Imagine what Liet'll say when he realizes he must've, like I dunno, uploaded it before he sobered up or gawd, I dunno... Estonia? Are you like still with me?"

"Hnng-" Estonia managed, his mind being wrenched between his libido and his sanity.  
The libido-faction, loudly led by his dick, was pointing out that the excellent (and limber!) little hottie he had been wanking to not ten minutes ago was sitting practically on his cock so why aren't you fucking him already.

The sanity meanwhile, had only one argument, but a quite persuasive one: Good God, am I really that desperate that I'd do Poland?

When Poland began to shake him and beg him to, like reboot or whatever, so he could help him get the video off the internet, Estonia's sanity (and conscience) gave an unhappy sigh and folded.  
Together, they went off to sulk in the same cave of his mind where they'd spent most of the communist years. The result was that he felt not a lick of shame when he slid his hands down to grab Poland's delectable little ass and leered at him.

"Oh, I'll help you, my dear Polska... as long as you show enough, ah, gratitude."


	10. When we laughed - Japan/China, tickling

**Then:**  
"Shouldn't leave an opening!" China cries teasingly before he attacks with his four-thousand years of amassed tickling skills.

His younger brother, usually such a sombre little thing, giggles and twists. Oh, how Japan tries to escape, but his laughter only increase in volumes, until he is sobbing and hiccuping with sheer joy.

"Do you give up, aru?" China asks, when the child is only able to gasp and flail in helpless hilarity.

"Never!" the little pipsqueak shouts and soon they are off again.

**Now:**   
"Ah, China-san, don't twist so... it disturbs the symmetry," Japan chides.

And how he loves this symmetry, of black ropes stretched over pale, smooth skin. China tries to contain his enthusiastic movements, but when Japan's hand descends again, he breaks almost immediately.

Even so, Japan keeps it up, fingers expertly finding the sensitive spots - between ribs, beneath arms, on the inside of knees. Oh, but he knows a thousand and one places that will make China wriggle and moan, cry and curse and beg for him to touch again, again...

He is still looking for that one place, though. The one that will make him laugh so loud that the birds fly up in fright from the bamboo grove. The laughter that once belonged only to Japan and innocent, sun-drenched days.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [生生世世，海枯石爛 （天命）[The Never Been Yours Mix]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/384230) by [oultrepreu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oultrepreu/pseuds/oultrepreu)




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